


All that Remains Now Echoes

by arringtondblake



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU - Felicity is the Arrow, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love to Friendship to Falling in Love, Series Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arringtondblake/pseuds/arringtondblake
Summary: Felicity has struggled these past five years to get home. She’s had only one thought, and one goal-- survive to return to the man she loved, the man she was supposed to marry two months before that fateful day. She hadn’t even considered that he might have already moved on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I hope you enjoy. This piece has been a labor of love over several years. I am both excited and nervous to post something I am so proud of. geniewithwifi is the wonderful beta and cheerleader for this piece. I have never been so blessed. She is unparalleled in sculpting written word. Any mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Some of you may read this piece and see that it sounds familar. This piece was once titled 'Counting Stars'. Though the concept of the story is the same I am doing a lot of work to adapt and better the piece. More information about this can be found on my tumblr (arringtondblake). 
> 
> Thank you.

 

Chapter One: Beginning of a Requiem, Pilot (1x1) 

_ Laurel _

_ "I’ll fill that space in your heart  _ **_..._ ** _ Even though I know she's still there. I will never love someone like I love you, like you love her. But I won't move on without a fight." -Tracy Champan, 'If You Wait For Me' _

 

“Ollie?” Laurel Lance called out. Her voice bounced around the open floor plan of the stylized loft she shared with Oliver Queen. Between the high, vaulted ceilings and the floor to ceiling windows, the echo of her voice seemed to go on indefinitely. 

 

Laurel padded barefoot into their kitchen, her feet contrasting against the dark, hard wood floor. 

 

“Can you turn on the TV to channel 7, hon? Sara’s ‘Lawyers Without Borders’ interview should be coming on in a minute.” Laurel requested.

 

“Got it,” came Oliver's gruff voice from the living room. His answer was followed by a grunt.

 

Laurel heard the subtle scuff as Oliver tugged the top button of his Italian linen dress shirt loose and the muffled thump as he kicked off his shoes. They landed next to the front door. Laurel leaned over the island to grab two crystal wine glasses from the rack over the wine safe. 

 

Laurel looked into the living room. She watched as Oliver tugged his tie off with impatient fingers. His jacket followed. He tossed it on the couch in a rumpled heap. He threw it away like it didn’t cost more than Laurel made in a year. His carelessness frustrated her.

 

Oliver plopped down onto the leather couch. He slumped into the leather cushions, exhausted, as if his job under Walter Steele at Queen Consolidated was labor intensive. He spent his days schmoozing CEOs he had known since he was a boy and asking gorgeous interns to fetch his coffee. 

 

Laurel rolled her eyes. “I saved two families from wrongful foreclosure today. What did you do Oliver, have a nice, free lunch?” Laurel murmured angrily under her breath. Oliver would never notice.

 

She was proud of Oliver for stepping up and taking a role in the company when his father died. She really was. But if the groaning and grumbling were any indication, he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t doing anything about it either. Oliver wasn’t going to put effort into finding a job he liked better. That’s what exasperated her. He still just waited for opportunities to fall into his lap. 

 

Oliver worked, sure, if nodding off during business meetings counted as work. He wasn’t trying to become someone on his own. He wasn’t working towards a future goal-- not like she was  He wasn’t trying to figure out what he wanted to do or who he wanted to be. Yet, he complained about it. It drove Laurel crazy. She was a hard working person who had actually put in the effort to become someone her father could be proud of, and Laurel couldn’t understand why Oliver didn’t do the same. What would it take for him to change. Obviously, a tragedy wasn’t going to cut it, because he’d already lived through one. . 

 

He lost his father and his fiancée in one fatal swoop.

 

Although,he did make an effort to put on a suit and tie each morning, to be on time to work, to be home each night for dinner, and to communicate in a way he hadn’t when they had first dated in high school. The problem was, Laurel knew that he could do amazing things. Make changes. Save the world. He could be a hero if he’d just get off his ass and think for himself for once.

Oliver cared about people. He cared about their city. He had opinions about politics, education, and health care. Oliver would make a great city advocate or mayor. He never would though, if he didn’t change his way of thinking. His self esteem was so low, he always thought himself as average. And apparently,he was content with being average. 

 

When she and Oliver started falling in love after Felicity passed away he had been open and charismatic. He had been excited in a way he wasn't now. Laurel felt she loved him irrevocably, that she  _ should  _ love him irrevocably, unconditionally. She couldn’t help but miss the excitement. 

 

It died away over the past year. 

 

Laurel sighed. She moved across the kitchen and swung open the door to the wine safe. She grabbed a bottle of white with a quick hand. Her fingers delicately wrapped around the neck of the bottle. It was The Label’s-- Tommy’s club-- new, exclusive  _ Le Blanc Detente. _ The bottle breathed a sigh when Laurel screwed out the cork. She ripped the cork off the corkscrew and tossed it in a jar she kept by the sink. She was keeping them since she thought it might make a nice gift for Tommy at some point. A symbol of his hard work and their support of him.

 

Laurel took a healthy swig and grinned. It was dry but rich, just the way she liked it.

 

“Nice job, Merlyn,” Laurel said to herself with a smile.

 

Tommy Merlyn. Now that was someone who had created his own opportunities. He was changing who he was into what he wanted to be. He had built his club from the ground up, with no help from his father. The Label had just launched and was doing well and he had just broken ground on a restaurant he was opening in the Glades. He was convinced opening a ‘popular spot’ would bring both new jobs and new attention to the Glades. He was hoping it would bring new investment to Starling City’s underbelly. He wanted to make a difference there like his mom had. Laurel was impressed.

 

“Here, Ollie,” she said and slid a glass into Oliver’s hand. She put hers down on the coffee table. Oliver’s lips pouted at her. “I know you prefer rosé but this is Tommy’s. Just try it,” she insisted and swept out of the room to change. “He’s working hard to make something of himself, separate himself from Malcom. We need to support him.”

 

When she made it to the bedroom, Laurel pulled her constricting work blouse over her head. While changing to more comfortable clothes, she could feel a headache coming on from the blaring of  the Channel Fifty Two news. It was always too loud. She sighed. Oliver liked everything a little too exaggerated.

 

The news of stock prices went on. Queen consolidated was doing well which was no surprise. Blah blah blah. The news was always the same just tragedy and success painted over with a broad brush.  Laurel was heading back to the living room with the shattering of a glass and a low ‘ _ fuck’  _ caught her attention.

 

The words took a second to sink in as she ran to the living room.

 

_ “Felicity Smoak is alive,” _ the man on the news said. His voice was deep and round,  _ “The Starling City resident was found by fisherman in the North China Sea, five days ago…” _

  
  
  


The sight that met her took her breath. Shattered glass covered the floor. White wine seeped sluggishly into the plush area rug. The liquid looked like it wanted to break free and flood the floor. Oliver was pale as a ghost and his eyes were locked on the television. 

 

“Ollie?” She asked, trying to make sense of the scene in front of her.

 

“She’s alive,” he said his voice low like he had been punched in the gut. Laurel wasn’t sure that it was addressed to her. That he even registered that she was in the room.

 

“Who is?"

 

_ “Five years after she was missing and presumed dead following the accident at sea that claimed the Queen’s Gambit… _ ”

 

Laurel gasped. Felicity Smoak’s picture appeared on the screen. 

 

Felicity's blonde hair was loose under her graduation cap. Soft curls fell over her shoulders. Her fuchsia colored lips were turned up at the corners in a smile. She clutched her diploma to her chest. She barely looked 19. Laurel knew that she had graduated early from MIT with honors. The plethora of cords around her neck were evidence of that.

 

_ “Felicity Smoak was most notably engaged to Starling City billionaire Oliver Queen, shortly before her disappearance. Smoak was a chief Information Technology Analyst at Queen Consolidated…” _ the man at the news desk continued, solemnly.

 

Laurel staggered to the couch and sank onto it. She watched, in shock, as the picture of the smiling graduate was taken over by a bolder shot. This time Felicity’s hair was piled on top of her head in a complicated coif. Her lips were stained red. She was laughing. Her head was tossed to the side as she peered up at the man beside her. The photographer had only captured half of Oliver’s face, but his smile was still obvious, bright and bold. His hand was curled against Felicity's arm. 

 

A new picture took over the top right corner. It was a copy of the one Laurel had seen five and a half years ago on Oliver and Felicity's engagement announcement. Felicity’s ring didn’t shine but her smile had. She had refused to wear a product of the blood diamond trade. Oliver’s arms were wrapped low around her waist. His head was tucked against her neck. He was smitten.

 

_ “Robert Queen, CEO of Queen Consolidated and business tycoon, had charted the trip to company holdings in China during which a violent storm took the ship down. He is now officially confirmed as deceased.” _

 

Laurel’s mind spun. She couldn’t take it anymore. With clumsy hands, she snatched the remote from the floor. A piece of glass nicked her finger. She didn’t notice. Her sole focus was on expunging this most recent discovery.l. She finally managed to change the channel and only found more of the same.

_ “And now details as to the castaway story you’ve all heard about, Felicity Smoak, soon to become a legendary story. Jessica now has more details,”  _ the older white man at the desk was replaced with an intelligent brunette. She wore a sharp blue suit and purposefully flipped through an artificial stack of papers.

 

_ “The Queen’s Gambit was last heard of more than five years ago,”  _ Jessica started _ , “Ms. Smoak has reportedly confirmed she is the only survivor of the accident that took the lives of six people.” _

 

A third news channel was focused on Felicity’s short lived stint as Starling City’s royalty.

 

_ “…Smoak, former fiancé of Starling City billionaire Oliver Queen. Their three year courtship culminated in what some considered the engagement of the century. Still others hoped Oliver’s high school sweetheart Laurel Lance would fight for her place in the Queen family. _ ”

 

Laurel blinked once, then twice, as her own picture appeared on the screen. It was pixelated but anyone could make out Oliver’s lips on her cheek while they stood just outside of a club. The next photo was a zoomed in shot of her hand in his at Felicity’s funeral.

 

Laurel turned off the TV with a gasp and smacked the remote against the palm of her hand so hard the batteries popped out of the back. She forced a rough hand through her hair. She tried to breathe. She felt as sick as Oliver looked. 

 

“Ollie,” she started, and trailed off when he didn’t even blink, “Oliver,” she tried again. Laurel brushed her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture and tried to find the right words to say. She settled on, “I know you buried him a long time ago. But you're still allowed to hurt. Your father would be so proud of you.” 

 

He nodded absently. She him mutter  _ Felicity  _ under his breath, before tears leaked down his cheeks. His body rippled with silent, repressed sobs.

 

Laurel wanted to go and comfort him, but somehow she knew in this moment that her presence would not be welcome.

 

Not at all.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mrs. Queen, I’m so sorry…”  Laurel wanted to say ‘ _ for your loss’  _ but they had already done that so long ago; the funerals and the grieving. The words went unspoken as she kissed Moira’s cheek.

 

It felt like a setback. Laurel had just begun to see light back in the Queen family. After five years, they finally seemed ready to moved on. Laurel didn’t know how she felt. She was glad Felicity wasn’t dead, sure, but ever since the news story the previous night, she couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding the crept up her spine. She felt like the time she had with Oliver had been stolen. 

 

She was certain her life was about to be upended, something she no doubt didn’t deserve She was a good person for heaven’s sake. She worked for a company well below her high education, and took a lower paycheck than what she could readily get for her degree. All of this to help low income families to find justice despite not having a large pocketbook. She tried her best to see the best in people, to be good to people. Karma couldn’t always be just, she supposed.

 

“Thank you, Laurel,” Moira smiled fondly.

 

Laurel smoothed down the A-line dress she wore, one that Ollie had often told her she looked good in.  She tucked her hand into the crook of Oliver’s arm. His grey suit jacket felt soft beneath her fingers. He was a solid force beside her.

 

“Hello Ollie,” Thea canted from where she appeared on the stairs. Her long brown hair hung in crinkled waves. It swung as she pranced into the foyer. The thuds of her steps reverberated in the space.

 

Thea’s crop top was printed with a skeleton ribcage that revealed a heart. Laurel thought it was ironic. Thea had never been so open or transparent. Thea was both radically different and exactly the same as what she appeared to be on the outside. It had taken Laurel awhile to get used to. Laurel’s sister was edgy, had been rebellious but Thea was a rebel without a cause. She was prickly. She was wildfire forcefully contained, a tornado unsure of her destination. She was filled with landmines and Laurel was all too good and accidentally stepping on them.

 

“For the foreseeable future, I have a new sister.”  Thea all but squealed and clapped her hands together. The movement caused the bracelets on her wrist to chime.

 

It hit Laurel like a ton of bricks, like a hard wave in the ocean intent on knocking her backward. 

 

“She has no family. Her apartment was liquidated years ago. She doesn’t have anywhere to go. Our phone number was the only one she remembered beside your old one,” Moira explained. The eloquence that was usually in her speech had given way to something more frantic. Moira nodded towards Oliver where he stood like a statue by the door. “…that was disconnected years ago.”  The  _ she  _ went unsaid.  _ Felicity. _

 

“Should I tell Lissy it’s time for dinner?”  Thea queried, hands planted on her hips. Thea’s gaze bored into Laurel’s. Laurel thought it sounded a lot like she had issued a challenge.

 

The truth was Laurel had always considered Thea a younger sister. That didn’t mean the feeling went both ways. Laurel liked to mother but Thea had never been looking for a new one. Not even a new sister in law. Laurel knew Felicity and Thea had been practically inseparable. Pictures of the two of them shopping together had filled every tabloid, weekly. Thea had even started digital design classes soon after Felicity went missing. It was no secret she had done it to honor Felicity’s memory. Thea hadn’t taken Laurel’s moving in with Oliver well. That was putting it lightly. It had been more like World War III.

 

Laurel watched as Moira rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. Her manicured hand waved in the way it always did when she meant ‘forgive my daughter’. “Raisa already told her, dear”

 

Laurel heard Oliver gasp. Suddenly everything seemed to move in slow motion, blurred around the edges.

 

Felicity had walked down half the staircase before they had even realized she was there. Her once long, blonde hair was now a dusty brown that just passed her shoulders. It looked like someone had hacked it off with a rusty, serrated knife. It had grown back out unevenly. She held her shoulders stiffly, as though their presence alone caused her to be unable to relax.. Felicity limped as she made her way slowly down the stairs.. Her left leg lagged behind her right. A long scar crept up the side of her neck and onto her jaw. The scar was pink and puckered but had long since healed. Her build, which had once been that of a slender girl who spent all day at the computer, was now outlined noticeably with muscles. 

 

Felicity wore jeans and a long sleeve fuchsia colored shirt. The color looked almost wrong on her now. It was too bright for someone who had been through something so dark. Laurel couldn’t help but wonder if the long sleeves covered more scars. The only thing familiar were the glasses perched on her nose. Laurel wondered if they had just come out of the box or if they had survived the island.

 

“Felicity.” Oliver’s voice ghosted over Laurel’s shoulder. 

 

Oliver sounded more broken than Laurel had ever heard him. It sounded like his soul was trying to set itself free. Laurel’s skin tingled but she wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or dread. The weight in the bottom of her stomach said the latter.

 

Laurel watched as Felicity all but tripped down the stairs. Felicity cursed lowly and grabbed the stair rail, hard. The flustered blush that had once dotted her cheeks every time she stumbled when surrounded by paparazzi, was absent. Oliver took a step forward, his hands were outstretched as if he could catch her from a distance. 

 

“Hello Oliver,” she said quietly. 

 

“Felicity.”

 

She quirked her eyebrow and Oliver chuckled harshly. “At least that didn’t change.”

 

Felicity smiled and it drew attention to the dent of a scar on her cheek.

 

“Am I late to the party?”  Laurel swung around to see Tommy. He had just arrived. He rested against the door frame, boyish smile perched on his face. “I brought the wine.”  He brandished one bottle near his head, swinging it lightly.

 

Laurel felt her tension ease a little.

Moira smiled at Tommy. “This way.”

Oliver’s hand gripped his fork so hard Laurel thought he may snap the antique silver in half. Tommy tried to make up for the awkward silence by chattering almost compulsively. Laurel felt the tension from the room wrap around her throat, a silent noose. 

 

Raisa silent poured each of them a glass of wine before fading into the background. 

 

“Very crisp, Tommy. I’m proud.” Moira commented.

 

“Felicity,” Oliver interrupted before Felicity took a sip. He took time with her name, savoring it like an endearment, “Prefers red...I - I’m sure we have a bottle - ”, he continued haltingly.     

 

“It’s fine Oliver.”  Felicity said. She sounded choked.

 

But Oliver was already up and disappearing out of view. Laurel watched as he came back again with a bottle of red wine that was probably older than Starling City itself. He poured a glass and set it in front of Felicity. She offered him a shy, barely-there smile in return. If Laurel didn’t know any better, she would have said Oliver's hand shook. Commitment was the only thing Laurel had ever known to make Oliver nervous.

 

“I know you haven't seen us in awhile ‘City , but you do you really dislike me so much that you would pretend to hate my wine,” Tommy laughed. 

 

Laurel wondered if he saw how forced Felicity's smile was. Her laugh was shallow.

 

“I loved it Tommy. Love it,” Felicity stumbled. Laurel could tell she was lying.

 

“It really is terrific, Merlyn. Ollie and I had some last night,” Laurel offered.

Tommy winked at Laurel, “Thanks.” He cracked his knuckles dramatically and opened his arms to the table, “Alright. Let’s see,”  Laurel doubted the word choice was intentional but she could see everyone’s mind jump the North China  _ Sea.  _ “Uhh… Lost ended.”

 

Laurel could almost remember Tommy complaining that ‘Ollie’s new thing of the moment’ the ‘really hot IT girl from Robert’s company’ had talked them into watching Lost. He had exasperatedly explained that Felicity understood the show on a level he couldn’t fathom existed.

 

_ “ _ But," Tommy continued, "I’m sure you want to catch up on that on your own. We have a black president, that’s new. Steve Jobs died. And tablets are a thing. It’s like half of a laptop,” He maimed ripped a computer in two, complete with sound effects, “they have like games and …”

 

A spark was bright in Felicity’s eyes. 

 

“Here,” Laurel startled at Oliver’s movement. He was across the room in barely a breath, both the hand she had placed on his knee and his napkin, forgotten. He held his tablet out to Felicity. Laurel hadn’t even seen him grab it from his briefcase. “It’s a touch screen.” He explained and demonstrated with his hand.

 

Felicity reached out with her left hand. Laurel found her eyes drawn to it past the newly clean but blank nails, in search of the ring that had once been there. Instead of the striking pearl a deep, deep gash was visible. It looked like someone had sawed Felicity's finger off and tried to stitch it together. The wound was jagged around the edges. There was a deep divot below her knuckle. Laurel wasn't the only one who had noticed it. Six pairs of eyes were glued to the spot.

 

Felicity drew her hand back sharply when she noticed the stares.  She nearly dropped the tablet in her haste.  The device clattered against the edge of the table.  The Queen Consolidated logo that covered the back of the tablet hit against Felicity's stomach. 

 

“Sorry.”  She said sharply.  

 

Felicity gathered the tablet to her chest before she handed it back to Oliver.  Laurel noticed that she returned it with her right hand. Felicity tugged the sleeve on her left arm down to the center of her palm with an embarrassed frown.  She hid her left hand under the table and proceeded to only use her right hand for the remainder of the meal.  The table went back to silence and Felicity poked at her potatoes with her fork. 

 

The silence was loud. 

 

“What was it like there?”  Thea asked.  

 

Laurel choked on her wine. Moira hid a cough in her napkin. Tommy’s fork froze halfway to his mouth.

 

Laurel studied Thea then.  She couldn't help but notice the way Thea tried to look into the soul of her friend. Thea’s head was tilted to the side and there was real, raw concern in her eyes.

 

Felicity bit her lip for so long, Laurel didn't think she was going to answer and then she said, “I lost my glasses pretty early on, so, dark. Very dark.”  Laurel thought she was trying to joke but the pain in her words were bare and raw.

 

Oliver visibly flinched. A cross between a groan and a low growl escaped his lips. Laurel forcefully put her hand on his knee to prevent him from bashing it against the table. 

 

Silence fell over the room again.

 

Felicity pushed her food around on her plate. She took a bite of potato and made a funny face.

 

“Are they too cold Felicity?  The potatoes?” Laurel asked helpfully,  “Raisa could heat them up for you.”  She felt desperate to somehow stop all the awkwardness. Laurel raised her hand off the table to catch Raisa’s attention.

 

Raisa moved toward the table at the gesture. Her arms were out stretched for the plate. A soft, motherly smile lit up her kind but worn face. Her dark eyes studied Felicity carefully.

 

Felicity eyes smiled at the older woman and she raised her right hand to stop her. She said what sounded to Laurel like a jumble of Russian.  Laurel did not understand the words but the warmth in Felicity’s tone was difficult to miss. Laurels suspicion was proven correct when surprise showed in Raisa’s eyes. Raisa’s smile widened.    
  


“Russian. Robert always spoke so highly of you, I’m not surprised.”  Walter smiled, as he approached the head of the table. “My apologizes, I was held up at the office.”

 

Felicity nodded towards him a hesitant forced smile replacing the warm one she had shown Raisa. Robert dropped a kiss on Moira’s cheek before he passed his brief case and jacket to Raisa. He settled in at the table. 

 

Laurel preempted the silence. “I didn’t know you took Russian in college Felicity,” Laurel said.  She took a full sip of wine from her glass.

 

“I didn’t know you were so eager to steal my fiancé, Laurel.”  It was a grumble into her plate, as if Felicity had to say it but didn’t want anyone else to hear. Her voice had echoed through the room. 

 

“I never meant to disrespect your memor - to disrespect you."

“Felicity I thought you were gone.”

 

Both Laurel and Oliver had spoken at the same time

 

The distinction wasn’t lost on Laurel.

 

“I should - ”  Felicity started as she pushed herself out of her chair.  She rubbed a hand against her thigh and grimaced in pain. She nodded to herself and then added “ - be excused.  Thank you all for dinner.” 

 

Laurel found that the statement lacked sincerity. Before she had time to blink, Felicity was gone.

* * *

 

“…And just what do you think you have to offer that your Mother, Step-father, Thea, and  _ elite private security team _ don't? It’s not like you’re a champion fighter.  She'll be fine, Ollie.” 

 

Oliver didn’t make a sound in recognition or response. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose. She rested her hands against the bathroom sink. Her eyes were puffy. She hadn’t even shed the tears she felt pooling yet. She was bound to look like a mess in the morning.

 

Laurel took a deep breath in her nose and slowly let it out her mouth. “Oliver,” she started softly. She caught his eyes in the mirror. He sat on the end of their bed. His head was in his hands; his elbows were braced on his knees, “This isn’t your fault.”

 

Oliver looked at her with lost eyes. Gathering strength she didn’t have, Laurel approached him. She took his face in her hands. His stubble tickled her fingers as her thumb traced over his cheekbone, “Oliver, You don't owe her anything.”

 

Oliver jerked away. He forced Laurel to stagger backwards when he haltingly paced toward the window. He slammed a fist against the window causing the glass to shake and tremble. “I owe her everything,” Oliver’s voice was hollow. It was a whisper more than a yell.

 

Oliver tipped his head back but refused to meet Laurel’s eyes. His feet were planted apart. Laurel found his words more imposing because of how still he was.  He was a storm on the horizon.

 

“I was supposed to have been there.  I was supposed to be on that boat, Laurel,” his voice rose dangerously in pitch, “We got in a fight about  _ you  _ and I stayed.”

 

Red rose to Laurel’s face. She staggered to a chair at the other end of the room and fell into it. The goal was to put as much distance between them as possible. She had just been handed a life grenade and was stuck waiting for it to explode. 

 

“What?” was all she could say. Her voice was flat and hard.

 

“I stayed to give her space,” Oliver’s words were a taunt to himself. His tone was colder than Laurel had ever heard it, “This is my fault. And you saw her Laurel,” Oliver spun to face her, “She’s lived through hell. She’s obviously been tortured. It’s nearly impossible for her to get those injuries any other way.” 

 

Laurel was exhausted. “She told the doctors she was alone."

 

“She told Tommy she liked his white wine.  She hates - hated white wine.  We all lie to protect the people we –"

 

Oliver bit off the end of his sentence, as if he was embarrassed to say it.  

 

“ _ Love. _  Oliver?”  Laurel asked.  “IS that what you were going to say? It’s not a bad word.  It’s not bad for her to love you.  The question is -”

“Laurel please,” he said in what Laurel took to be exasperation, “I’d just feel better if--” he banged on the window in frustration again, “You saw how she was at dinner.  It’s her first night here.”

 

“Oliver.” Laurel said leaving no room for argument, “Do you - ”

 

A knock at the door stopped the argument.  Laurel crossed the room in easy strides. She gathered herself as she went. She yanked the door open expecting to find one of the house staff, only to find Felicity on the other side. Breath staggered out of her lungs. The fake smile she had worn fell.

 

Felicity looked small. She stood with her hands wrapped her stomach.  She held a silk, bright blue nightgown, crumpled in a ball against her body.

 

“I’m sorry….I didn’t mean to.  Am I interrupting something?  It looks like I'm interrupting something?  I can just…” Felicity made a motion with her hands to move backwards.

 

Laurel blinked. That was the Felicity she remembered. Not small but rambling and genuine. “It’s fine, Felicity.”  Laurel said.

 

Felicity’s almost ramble made just how little she had spoken the rest of the night painfully obvious.

 

“Ummm.”  Felicity stuttered, stepping closer to Oliver. She cast a glance back at Laurel. It was like she had a secret to tell Oliver. “Do you have a pair of pants I could borrow?”  The question was timid.  “Thea and I are going shopping tomorrow apparently but until then.  Your mother still had this,” she fingered the gown.  Laurel tried not to notice the way Oliver’s eyes sparked. Clearly it brought back some good memories. “I... um…My legs,” was all she managed.

 

“Of course,” Oliver didn't hesitate before moving to the dresser.  He pulled one of the wooden dresser drawers open.

 

The antique drawer scraped against its metal track. The sound was intrusive in the silence. He rifled around for a moment and took out a pair of light blue, drawstring pants.  Laurel knew they were his favorites.  

 

"Here." Oliver said.

Felicity nodded her thanks. She curled her fingers around the fabric. Laurel saw Felicity’s shoulders settle into a more natural position, her tension eased. Felicity backed out of the door and Oliver flexed his fingers like he wanted to hold her there, keep her close.

 

“Laurel-" Oliver started, his back to her. She let the silence hang but he didn’t work to fill.

 

Finally Laurel broke it, “Don’t, Ollie.  Just don’t.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Felicity!”   

 

Laurel lurched awake.  She snapped up in bed as the call of Felicity's name resonated from the adjoining room.  

 

Laurel rubbed her hands against her eyes, fighting to wake up. Oliver, bare chested, in his boxers, was already running out of the room.  He ran like a man possessed.  Like the love of his life was dying _.  _ She wondered if Felicity had ever stopped being the love of his life. Laurel climbed out of bed, grabbed her abandoned pajama pants, and jogged out the bedroom door to find out what the emergency was.

 

The door to the guest bedroom Felicity had moved into was open.  A wall of bodies blocked Laurel's sight.  Thea stood right inside the door. She looked terrified. Raisa hovered by the wall.  Laurel fought her way through to see the commotion.  Moira sat on the floor in front of the window choked and shaking. Felicity was on the other floor. Her clothes were soaked through and her eyes were wild and lost.

 

It looked like Felicity had climbed out of bed, chosen to nap on the window seat, and rolled into the floor.  Her camisole was so soaked with water it was see-through. It revealed large, gnarled gashes across her ribs and stomach. The pants she had borrowed from Oliver were two-toned in water-like ink blots. Felicity was crouched by the window. A frightened animal in a defensive stance.  There was a noticeable tremor in her hands.  What was more noticeable to Laurel was the rough, black, cable cord that hung around Felicity's neck, and the scratched and chipped diamond ring that hung from it. 

 

Felicity had lost her glasses on the island.  Laurel had seen the pain splashed across her face.  Felicity looked like she would have given anything to have them back.  But the ring was still there.  Her finger looked as if it had nearly been cut off but she’d kept the ring.  It didn’t hit Laurel all at once.  Instead it washed over her slowly.  First she noticed the ring.  Then the look on Felicity’s face as Oliver crouched down beside her. 

 

Oliver may have tried to move on from Felicity, may have found Laurel again, but Felicity had never given up on him.

 

“I think it was a nightmare,” Thea whispered. 

 

As Felicity said, “I’m so, so, so sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  But for what Laurel didn't know. 

 

And Ollie said, “You’re okay, Lissy.  You’re home.  You. Are.  Home.”

 

As he said it, Laurel felt like she had lost hers.

It was painfully obvious that Felicity only had eyes for Oliver.  When she couldn’t manage to stand on her own, too much adrenaline and the cold and whatever had happened to her leg, Laurel reasoned, Felicity allowed Oliver to carry her to the bed.

 

One by one the spectators filed out of the room.  Moira first.  Then Thea as Oliver straightened the covers. Walter who had peaked in during all the commotion left when Oliver turned off the light.  Raisa was the last one to give up her vigil.

 

Oliver muttered something to Felicity quietly.  His hand moved back over her head, smoothing her hair, as he encouraged her to sleep.  Laurel couldn’t quite make out what was said.  Felicity’s grip on the ring around her neck never loosened. She held it desperately like it was a talisman. She was obviously petrified that someone would try to take it from her. Laurel had never seen anyone so scared, so inconsolably frightened. It went beyond that, Laurel thought.  Perhaps broken was a bad term, but Felicity certainly looked broken and remade.

 

Oliver’s eyes caught Laurel’s.  He beseeched her to from across the room. 

 

She turned and walked out the door. 

 

When Laurel woke up in the morning the other side of the bed was still made.  The pillow and blanket she had left for Oliver on the couch were untouched.  She was alone.

 

Queen Manor was usually quiet in the early morning hours, but this morning, Laurel couldn’t help but notice how busy and loud it was, even from her place tucked in bed.  She could hear footsteps in the hall, an argument between Raisa and one of the other maids in Russian, Moira attempting to talk to Thea, Felicity’s rough voice assuring Thea that ‘yes, she was still going to go shopping with her’ and ‘yes they could meet Tommy later’, but she didn’t hear Oliver.

 

Laurel pulled herself out of bed, got dressed, before heading out to the hallway.  Felicity and Thea were just walking out the door.  It was warm outside but Felicity wore a long sleeved polka dot sweater and a pair of dark jeans. It was clear that she wanted her body well covered.  If Laurel searched for it, she could see the line of the ring and the cable on which it hung under Felicity’s sweater.

 

Felicity’s eyes met hers and Laurel knew she had noticed.

 

Felicity took a few step toward her and cautioned Thea with a hand, to stay at the other end of the hall. When Felicity reached her she let out a shallow breath. She made blatant eye contact with Laurel.

“He’s happy with you,” Felicity said, but it sounded a little rehearsed, “and I’m glad he’s happy,” Felicity twined her fingers together nervously, “Thanks for letting him help me last night.”

 

And then she and Thea left.  Laurel stayed planted in the hallway, blinking.

 

* * *

 

"You were  _ kidnapped?" _  Oliver asked Felicity and Thea, loudly and with barely concealed panic.  

 

Felicity and Thea sat shoulder to shoulder on the antique couch in the Queen's main sitting room. A sea of shopping bags surrounded their feet. From what Laurel understood via the previous chatter that had filled the mansion, shopping had been an all day excursion which started with makeovers.  Felicity's hair had been cut into a fashionable, long, mid-shoulder bob and dyed back to its former blonde.  Thea sported a blowout worthy of Hollywood and too-long lashes. They had ventured out to the high fashion stores that hid on Starling's east end without event, but when they drove into the Glades to meet Tommy for lunch at a  Chinese restaurant, they had been attacked.  They were found hours later in a long abandoned warehouse.  Neither seemed to be able to remember what happened.

 

"Dad," Laurel acknowledged when Quentin Lance and his partner walked in the Queen's front door.

 

He gave her a half smile and a nod.  Laurel had no illusions regarding her father's feelings about her relationship with Oliver.  Her relationship with her dad had been tumultuous ever since she and Oliver moved in together.  She and her dad were close, sure, but they had been closer.  

 

Quentin had always been rather fond of Felicity.  The way Detective Lance told it, Felicity had come to do an internship in their IT department while she was in high school and by the end of it had so surpassed everyone else on the SCPD staff that the officers were bringing  _ her _ coffee.  He had offered Felicity a job when she graduated IT but she had accepted the position at Queen Consolidated instead.  He had liked to pick at her about it before she had been presumed dead.  

 

Quentin approached Felicity carefully and knelt in front of her.

 

"I wish I could say 'welcome back' under better circumstances," he said, his voice rough.

 

Felicity half-smiled gently. She reached a hand out to his shoulder. "Good to see you too, detective."

 

"Can you tell me what happened?"

 

Thea shook her head 'no' and added, "Everything was blurry."

 

Felicity spoke up, "Someone in green.  With a hood.  Leather pants.  5''5, 5'6'' tops. Knew how to fight."

 

Laurel watched her dad smile, those seemed few and far between lately.

 

Quentin said, "You were always good with details."

Felicity gave a wry smirk, "Good to see that at least that hasn't changed."

 

Quentin may have missed it, but Laurel saw the way Felicity's eyes ghosted over Oliver where he stood in the corner under the entry way. Laurel wanted to think that she and Oliver appeared a united couple but she knew they had never been farther apart. She didn't think she imagined the way Oliver's whole posture tightened at Felicity's gaze. He shook, the tremble even in his hands.  Laurel thought he may be resisting the urge to pace.  The last time she had seen him this worried had been when the Gambit missed its port check in.  

 

"And you've spoken to a sketch artist?"

 

Felicity's nod was sure.

 

Quentin stood with a nod to Felicity, while he avoided the rest of the gathered Queen family.  "If you need anything..." he offered to Felicity over his shoulder.

 

"Bye, sweetheart," he said to Laurel. He stepped forward to drop a kiss on her cheek. He was physically close but the distance was easy to feel.

 

The front door shut with a click and Oliver burst forward.  "Are you okay?"  His voice was heavy.

 

Laurel felt helpless as her boyfriend moved towards Felicity.  He placed his hands on either side of Felicity's shoulder and encouraged her eyes to meet his.  "Are you okay?"  He repeated.

 

She shook her head, like she had forced away a thought.  "I'm fine.  _  I'm fine. _  Really."  Her hand rose hesitantly but eventually reached his cheek.  Laurel wished that Oliver hadn't leaned into it like it meant something.

 

"Yeah, big brother,” Thea drawled sassily, "I'm fine too."

 

Laurel caught the wink Thea sent towards Felicity.

 

"Alright," Oliver nodded. "Okay."

 

Felicity didn't move as he left but Laurel caught the look on Oliver's face.  She caught the darkening in his eyes and the harsh, wrinkled crease between them.  Determination.  

 

It wasn't until later that night after another painfully awkward dinner that Laurel heard Oliver make the call.  Oliver had locked himself in the bathroom. He turned on both the shower and the sink.  Even over the running water Laurel could hear the request to the manager of his family estate for a new security employee.

 

* * *

 

"You are coming to the 'welcome home bash' aren't you?"  

 

The uncertainty in Oliver's voice was a testament to how rocky their relationship had become over the last few days. She could barely remember when she had any certainty in their relationship.  It felt like standing on top of an avalanche that was waiting to break loose. Laurel was on the cusp of a change she wasn't ready for.

 

"You're still invited?"  Laurel quipped. "After your argument with Felicity this morning?”

 

It had been a big one, made more serious by how intimate it was.  Laurel had watched with Thea on the stairs as Felicity and Oliver fought, in whispers, over the new security guard he had ordered to be assigned to Felicity.  Their noses had been within a breath of each other.  Near the end of the argument after something about his family already returning the money she had left them in her will, felicity had bunched her hand in his dress shirt.  Oliver's hand had clasped over hers.  His finger had run over the ring that wasn't there.  When Laurel cleared her throat they had both stepped back and blinked  like they weren't aware it had happened.  

 

Thea had snorted. "We all know how those used to end."  

 

Laurel still felt sick.

 

"It's for her own good."  Oliver pulled Laurel from her thoughts.

 

"And who gave you the right to decide that?"  Laurel fired back.

 

His face shut her out., going blank in an instant.  She internally cursed at herself. If there was anything that was going to solve this problem and put their relationship back on equal footing, it was going to be open and honest communication.  Oliver had always needed incentive to open up.  Laurel was sure it had something to do with being bounced around between nannies and temporary caretakers so often as a kid.  And if Laurel was honest, she was sure opening up to Felicity and losing her hadn't helped.

 

"Yes," she acquiesced. "Tommy would kill me if I missed it."  

 

Tommy had planned the whole thing. He had babbled to her about it for close to two hours. Though most of the details were lost on Laurel, his pride and excitement were not.

 

"I have to finish up some background on this case against Adam Hunt and then I'll be there.  You want to pick my dress?"

 

It was their thing in a way.  When he had asked to pick out her dress for a charity event early on in their relationship Laurel had asked Tommy what it meant.   Tommy had thrown his head back in laughter and coughed out “Nice one Ollie” under his breath before he had offered, "It's a guy thing."

 

All Laurel needed to know was that it put a glint in Ollie's eye - made him happy - and that was something Laurel desperately wanted right now.

 

"Yes,” he said emphatically.

 

Laurel gave him a quick peck on the lips.  She left a light pink mark behind.  It felt good, marking him. "I'm way late for work.  I'll meet you at the apartment around 7ish...8.  We can get ready and go from there?"

 

Oliver was very smart, but also obtuse.  Laurel had confidence that he hadn't noticed the way she forced his hand at staying back at their loft and not down the hall from his late turned  _ former  _ fiancée.  She headed out the bedroom door, with an intentional sway in her step and tossed him a wink over her shoulder.

* * *

 

It didn't work.

 

Not only had her work meetings run late but she had also arrived at their loft to find their suitcases packed, prepared for several more days at the Queen mansion.  There was a note that the driver would pick them up whenever Laurel was ready.  She had a voicemail from Oliver saying he would meet her at the party.  

 

Laurel heaved a sigh and stormed into the bedroom.  Her heel nearly broke in the process. She felt like a tiger caged in her own life.

 

The dress Oliver had picked was laid out on the bed.  Laurel barely remembered buying it.  She had convinced herself that a Zac Posen _ that _ cheap was a necessity for her wardrobe but the vibrant print of multi-colored dots wasn't really been her style nor was its high neckline and tight lines.  

 

As she glared at it, Laurel couldn't help but think that it would look better on Felicity.  That it would suit her more. With a deep breath Laurel picked it up, hung it up ,and slid it in a spare garment bag, she had hanging in the back of her closet.  She felt eerily calm.  She couldn't help but wonder if women felt like this right before they burned the bed.  She was so angry and hurt, but it neither feel justified.

 

She crossed to her home office in their transformed guest bedroom and grabbed a sheet of stationery from the desk.  In a neat hand she wrote 'Had this in the back of my closet.  I was going to give it away...and then I thought of you. Hope you enjoy."  She folded it, scribbled ‘Felicity Smoak’ on the top, critiqued her handwriting, pinned it to the garment bag, and left it laying across the suitcases, ready for the driver to pick it up.

 

The party was in full swing by the time Laurel got there.  Oliver's confusion at her little black dress showed clearly in his eyes.  His face turned grave when she caught Felicity's arm and lead her out of the crowd with a "Can we talk?  Somewhere a little more privately."  In her ear.

 

Thea had followed them a few steps, until Felicity assured her that she'd be okay with a loose wave and a deep, kind smile.

 

"Is everything alright, Laurel?"  Felicity asked, when they had moved away from the party.  Her face was stoic.  It didn't give anything away. 

 

Even in the harsh fluorescent light of the upper-level space, she looked pretty. The dress she wore was so long.  It trailed the floor but the high slit and lace cut-outs made it casual enough for the party.  Laurel couldn't help but wonder if the long length and lace-covered cut outs had been picked in order to cover severe scar.

 

"Yeah,” Laurel started and shook her head. "No.  I know it has to be hard coming back to a whole different world,” Laurel sighed, “I want you to know that Oliver and I didn’t intend to -”

 

"Disrespect me?"  Felicity offered. Her voice was level but lacked emotion.

 

"Right. Well - ,” Laurel continued.

 

''- And now you feel your relationship shifting and you want me to stay away but you don't know how to ask,” Felicity said with an arched brow. 

 

This part of Felicity; this fire, the spine, Laurel remembered.

 

"Laurel,” Felicity said it like Laurel was a child, "I spent five years refusing to die so that I could come back to him.  Come back to my life here." She visibly struggled with her words for a bit, gulping and umming at the air. When Laurel was ready to beg off, Felicity added, "It's been hard to adjust too, but it will be even more difficult to give up." It felt like a verdict. There was Laurel didn’t know about those.

 

With a look at her phone, Felicity nodded her goodbye and slipped away with a "Sorry, I needed someone to do something and they didn't.  I need to go deal with it."

* * *

 

"You didn't stay long at the party last night.” Tommy lectured as he walked Laurel to her car.

 

He had stopped by for an opinion on what Laurel assumed was a bogus legal matter.  With Adam Hunt taken care of it was a welcome distraction.  

 

In what Laurel considered to be almost shy tone, for Tommy at least, he added, "I made sure the bar was stocked with Pinot Noir."

 

"Wasn't really my scene."  When Tommy cocked his head to the side in what seemed to say  _ liar, liar,  _ Laurel added, "Felicity and I had a...I'm not even sure it was a disagreement.  It was awkward."

 

Tommy nodded stoically. "She and Oliver gone mano y mano again?"

 

Laurel hated that she winced.  "No but there's something there,” She couldn't help but whine.

 

"They dated for years.  They were engaged," Tommy offered.  His voice, softened trying to take some of the brunt off the blow but he couldn’t completely hide his confusion. It chuffed out in a broken half chuckle.  

 

Tommy opened her car door and gave his hand to help her inside.  He leaned against the door frame, coming into her space. Laurel would deny that she licked her lips.  Tommy had always been cute in a boyish way, but now...well, maturity agreed with him.

 

"I know you, Laurel Lance," he teased, "I know that the two of you have already started a baby war."

 

Laurel cocked her head to the side, “Baby war?"

 

He laughed and tossed his head back.  She couldn't help but wish that Oliver would laugh like that, wild and unreserved. Tommy’s laugh was warm and full.

 

"Shut it.” Laurel pretended to zip her lips shut with a finger. "You need to sit down and talk about it.  Openly."  He continued. "You and Oliver let your feelings lead you and that’s great, but," He sighed, "Laurel she meant a lot to him.  She  _ changed _ him.  And he lost her.  He's probably just as confused as you are."  When Laurel retreated further back into her seat, hoping the leather would surround and protect her, he added, "Just talk to him about it." He squeezed her shoulder.

 

She looked up at him, the look on her face must have given her away because his eyes were flooded with concern, "What?"

 

“It's just...” Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm angry that I’m not angrier."

 

"Hmm?"  Tommy queried, there was both humor and worry in it.

 

"I should be angrier.  I should have gone home and forced him to sit on the couch - given him an ultimatum. The truth is, I've felt like we've been tapering off lately.  Felicity's reappearance has just exacerbated  things.

 

"Exacerbated?  What is that lawyer-speak?"

 

She sighed. "Merlyn."

 

"Alright, alright." He rubbed his hands together. "There isn't anything wrong with - Laurel just _ talk _ to him about it.  If the relationship isn't what it used to be, maybe this is just fate."

 

Laurel nodded and pressed her hands to the steering wheel.  She flexed her fingers outwards and inwards "Thank you, Tommy."

 

"Anytime.  Call me if you need to talk and especially if you don’t” he joked with a lurid wink. It finally pulled a smile out of Laurel. 

 

Tommy shut her door with a smile and waved as she pulled out of the parking lot.  Laurel already wanted to see him again.  She felt excitement wrap around her.  She wasn't sure where it came from. She wasn’t sure if it was wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

Laurel arrived to a too-quiet mansion. She had never called it home and it was certainly impossible to now. The security team let her in without question as they always had since she and Oliver had started dating, but she felt like she was sneaking into a home that she no longer belonged to. Laurel slipped off her heels in the foyer and crept up the stairs. The door to their bedroom was closed.  She opened it to find the garment bag stretched across the bed with a note pressed to the front. 

 

"Thank you, but I won't be part of the war."  Laurel almost laughed. Felicity Smoak had survived hell and still had class to boot.  __ Laurel threw the bag to the floor haphazardly.  

 

Laurel scrubbed off her makeup, tossed her hair into a messy bun, and changed into her pajamas before heading down to the kitchen for a glass of wine.  The voices in the family room stopped her.  She hid at the edge of a door frame.

 

Felicity and Oliver sat in the middle of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. They were almost touching.  Laurel was hit with the feeling that they had done this many, many times before.  Laurel had seen the shopping bags but she wasn't surprised to see that Felicity was still in Oliver's pajama pants.  

 

The TV was on, the volume turned down low.  The lead character of whatever they were watching seemed to be a sad blonde woman, a brunette man stood beside her with an older man, perhaps his father.  They looked to be investigating an unexplainable crime scene.  

 

"I really like this but I am surprised you knew about it.   _ Fringe. _  I must have rubbed off on you after all,” Felicity said quietly, there was forced humor and unhidden vulnerability in her voice.  Underneath it all, her tone was raw.

 

Oliver's head rolled back against the top of the couch. "Yeah,” he said to the ceiling. "Of course you did, Lissy."  Then finally, after a heavy silence, "Sci Fi Saturday.” it must have been a memory because she laughed. "Watching shows like this made me feel close to you when you were gone.  Thea would watch them with me and cry.  There wasn't a day - There wasn’t a day,” he repeated, “- that I didn't think of you.  And on the days I dreamed you were alive, I worried that you were too cold, too hungry, or hurt.  I always think of you.” His focus didn't leave the ceiling. The words split him open.

 

"And Laurel?"

 

Laurel wondered if Oliver blanched but he seemed to answer bravely, honestly.

 

"Everyone wanted me to talk about it.  To go off the deep end.  She didn't.  It was nice but I - we didn't mean - I thought...” he rambled. Laurel imagined him scrubbing a hand over his face, but she couldn't see quite that far.

 

Laurel watched as Felicity reached out and touched his hand, "There wasn't a day I didn't think of you."  Then after a moment that felt much longer, "I'm...I’m glad you found someone to make you happy. I’m glad you were happy."

 

"It's complicated,” Oliver said lowly. "Truth is, it has been for a while now, but I don't think either of us wanted...want,” he corrected, “to face it. If you ever need to talk about what happened there," he offered, changing the subject from himself.  Even from her hiding place Laurel caught the way Felicity's shoulders tensed.

 

"Thank you."

 

The silence that passed was tinted with the awkwardness of two people in love that didn't know what to say.  Laurel was an intruder.  

 

"Do you mind if I..." Felicity motioned to the length of the couch. "I haven't been sleeping well ...but with you..."

 

Laurel heard the brush the leather couch made as Oliver moved down to the other end. "Of course."

 

"Just wake me up when you need to go."  

 

Laurel figured Oliver must have nodded.  She watched as Felicity fell out of view.  Her head stayed on the same side of the couch, but Laurel was willing to bet that her feet were on Oliver's lap and that his hand was splayed over them protectively. The pain they had both been in had tears smarting in Laurel's eyes.  If her talk with Tommy hadn't, this proved that she and Oliver needed to talk.

 


	2. Discussionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or a handful of discussions that needed to be had and the way in which they happened. Felicity is legally resurrected from the dead, sets about taking Martin Summers off the list, and tries to come to terms with her feelings for Oliver and Laurel, while Oliver tries to address his feelings for Laurel and Felicity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here it is. Huge thanks to geniewithwifi for beta-ing, putting up with my crazy anxiety attacks, and being my cheerleader. I couldn't do it without you! She is also a wonderful writer. You should definitely go check out her work! So I am incredibly worried and anxious about this chapter. But here it is.... you can find me on tumblr (arringtondblake) for more information on updates and thoughts about this story.

 

Chapter Two: Discussionary; Honor Thy Father (1x02)

 

_Felicity_

_"Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"  Lana Del Ray, 'Young and Beautiful' for the Great Gatsby_

 

* * *

 

 

          “Where’d you take your coding classes?”  Felicity asked Thea, point blank.

 

           She had seen Thea glued to her laptop more than once over the past week. Every time Felicity looked at the screen it was covered in long strings of carefully arranged letters and numbers. Thea had been interested in information technology and coding before Felicity went away. Felicity had heard Thea discussing one of her coding classes to Moira. Thea hadn’t mentioned them to Felicity yet but Felicity felt it had more to do with the awkwardness of saying ‘so while you were dead I went into coding’ rather than Thea not wanting her to know.

 

           Felicity was still in Oliver’s pants ‒ _Head out of the gutter -_ she scolded herself. Her inappropriate turns of phrase had gotten her in trouble more than once when she way away. Though she often hoped something would cure her of her verbal snafus the island hadn’t. If it hadn’t nothing else would.

 

           Felicity hadn’t slept that night. She’d turned the time she had to a better use: hacking into the very full accounts of one Marcus Redman, and returning the money he’d embezzled from his disenfranchised clients. It had taken her longer than it would’ve five years ago.  She was still getting familiar with the technological advances and changes in coding that had occurred while she was away.  Redman was one of the first names on The List.  She had found the notebook of names by accident, hidden in a pocket  on Robert Queen -- soon after he took his own life.

 

          Felicity felt a gratefulness towards Robert for giving her this mission.   Being able to be the justice others needed, to stand up for those that couldn’t, to right wrongs; it was a good purpose. It made her feel as those all the years of pain and hardship could be turned to something good.

 

          Felicity  headed to  the kitchen for breakfast, startled to find Thea already there, staring at her laptop, with the carefully arranged letters and numbers going across the screen. They sat at the working island the staff usually used. Felicity was sure they were committing a faux pas since she had received more than one worried look from the staff. The informal breakfast nook had been built for a reason but Thea was more comfortable here and Raisa didn’t seem to mind.  The business of it all was a little distracting. While it was clear that everyone that bustled around had a purpose, a job to do, Felicity found it overwhelming. Her time away had taught her to always be aware of her surroundings. It had become instinctive, having this hyper awareness.

 

          “Thea? Coding?” Felicity prompted.

 

          Felicity saw the minute the question registered with Thea.  She winced when the younger girl looked up at her with wide gray eyes and took an audibly deep breath.

            

          “I enrolled in computer classes the day you and Dad left on the yacht,” Thea said soberly.  “My OIT teacher recommended that I take a college class in it.  So I dual enrolled at Starling State.  I got my placement like two hours after you had left.” Thea sucked in a quick breath.

 

           Felicity wrapped her hand over the top of Thea’s and gave it a squeeze.  

 

          “Oliver told me that QC bought up the rights to my software but didn’t do anything with it. From what I understand it meets a real need Since it  could really help restore the Glades. It’ll take some time getting used to the new technology updates and it will need a design reboot. I thought maybe you could help with that.”  

 

          Thea studied her. Felicity noticed the changes wrought in five years quite apparent in the young woman before her. She was no longer easy and vibrant. There was a world weariness that lurked in her posture and behind Thea’s eyes.

         

          “Is this some ploy to become a billionaire as soon as possible and leave us?  Because if it’s about the money, you’re family. We don’t care about - ”  Thea looked apprehensive.

 

            “ _Was almost_ family.  In the technical sense,” Felicity added when Thea frowned, “You shouldn’t have to take care of me,” Felicity waved a hand struggling to get her words out, “I don’t want to make this more difficult on all of you.  But it’s not about that.  I need some help and you’re one of the only people I trust.”

 

          Thea took a slurp from her cereal. “Then I’d love that.”

 

          Felicity stretched out her hand. “It’s a deal then.”

 

          Thea smiled, a quirk of her lips, and it almost reached her eyes. “Deal.” She met Felicity’s hand, shaking it once.

 

          “Before I forget, do you have any idea what happened to my old laptops?  I had a slew of partial software schematics…”

           

          Thea nodded and swallowed another bite of her cereal before answering, “They’re practically obsolete,” Thea said and it sounded like a sassy ‘those old things really?’  “But I wiped the hard drives. I have everything on an external upstairs.”

 

          “Thank you.”  Felicity rose. She needed to get ready for the court proceeding that would legally bring her back from the dead. Thea’s pointed nod towards Felicity’s un-touched bowl of cereal made her pause.

 

          “I’m still getting used to everything,” Felicity explained lamely.  “Cheerios are a lot different than the coconuts and pineapples I scrounged up on the island.”  She forced a chuckle.

 

          Thea’s eyes narrowed further. “I know you don’t want to talk about it.  But don’t feel like you have to lie about it either.” Thea added after a short silence  “Not to me.”

 

          Thea had always been more intelligent and more observant than she let others think. It was one of the things she and Felicity had bonded over early on; the fight to be seen for who they really were.

 

        “I’m working on it,” Felicity promised Thea before she grabbed a pear from a wooden bowl near the sink.  She tossed Thea a smile over her shoulder and headed up to her room --where she ran directly into Oliver.  

          “Oof.” Her face bounced hard off his shoulder.  Her chest pressed flat against his.  She couldn’t help but close her eyes and breathe him in for a minute.  His cologne was different, muskier than what he had used before.  The planes of his chest made it obvious that he’d worked out some over the years she was gone.  There was definition that hadn’t been there before.  His hand came down on the small of her back and slipped under her shirt, as he steadied her.  She forced herself not to flinch. She took a slow blink and dragged in a deep breath in order to gather herself.

 

          “…okay?”  She only caught the last half of his question.  She jerked away from him and almost fell back down the stairs.  His hand caught her elbow.  He steadied her.

 

          “Fine.  I’m fine,” she gritted out.

 

            She never imagined that she’d be in this situation, once again fumbling and embarrassed in front of the man she had once been engaged to.  The man that had wiped sauce off her mouth with his fingers more times than she could count, who had smiled in paparazzi shots with her when her hair turned green from the chlorine in his family pool, who had held her when she cried, sat through her long babbles about nothing,  and had carried her to bed when she fell asleep at her computer.

 

          When she had thought about what would be different when she got back from Lian Yu she had refused to let herself believe that he would have moved on. That he would not be there to help with her struggle to adjust. She actively refused to think about it or consider it! She missed the intimacy they had once shared.  It was devastating, really.

 

          Felicity knew that she should be happy he had moved on, that he had found solace in her absence. At the same time she couldn’t help how betrayed she felt.  She’d had the same sort of opportunities, even when she was gone.  Give in, move on, be with somebody else. She hadn’t.  She had stayed strong.

 

          She felt more lost now, at home, than she had when she was away.

 

          Oliver quirked his eyebrow at her.  He rubbed his hands down the front of his dark suit pants in what Felicity recognized as one of his token nervous gestures. She couldn’t help but wonder if his new sense of fashion was Laurel’s doing. That was something she had never done. She always loved the way Oliver _had_ dressed, neat, simple and comfortable.

 

          “I wasn’t paying attention,” she apologized, “I didn’t mean to make you late for the office.”

 

          Felicity stepped around him and continued up the stairs. When he called her name, she looked back over her shoulder. It was then that she noticed his expression. His head was tilted to the side and his eyebrows were raised in confusion. Felicity remembered that same look on his face from when she had picked out a sushi appetizer for their rehearsal dinner even though she was allergic to the nut topping, that time she had burst into tears right before she met his family, and when she had suggested they double date with Tommy and his flavor of the week. It meant ‘I’m too nice to say ‘what the hell but what the _hell,_ Lissy?’ It meant ‘I don’t understand’.

 

          “No,” he said lowly, carefully, his brow still furrowed. “They’re nulling your death in absentia.”  Felicity hated the way it sounded like Laurel was speaking through him.

 

          “You’re coming along.” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest.

 

          “Of course I’m coming along.”  His mouth turned down and his eyes looked too tight, “I want to be there for you.”

 

 _But only for the legal proceedings,_ Felicity though hotly.

            

          “Okay,” Felicity said over her shoulder.

 

          She intended to get ready alone but he was right behind her. Her shoulders tensed as he unintentionally stayed in her blind spot. He walked into the bedroom after her and carefully shut the door. Felicity flinched and pulled it back open.

 

          Oliver’s head drooped a fraction. He had a seat in the arm chair that faced the bathroom and newly-filled walk-in closet.  He fiddled with the pillow for a moment and finally laid it on the overstuffed chair next to him.

 

          The room was mostly white and grey. Thea had offered to help ‘add color to the place’. The pops of color that did exist were overwhelming. Felicity had dreamed of color on the island but she had also gotten used to the muted color pallet.

 

            “What do you need Oliver?” Felicity asked as she moved into the bathroom.

 

          He had done this before the island - sat on the bed and chatted with her while she prepared for the day. The reminder fouled her mood.

 

          She turned on the water and hunted for a washcloth. This bathroom was too organized, it was more a hotel room than a home. The steam from the sink clouded the mirror. Felicity was still getting used to seeing her face so when the mirror misted up it almost made her almost sigh with relief.

            

          “You left before I woke up last night,” Oliver finally stated.

            

          Felicity’s body flooded with heat.  ‘ _You mean, I got off the couch before Laurel came downstairs and woke you up with a blow job.’_ Felicity thought angrily. Angry at him and herself. She had been overwhelmed and weak. She let herself seek comfort from him. She wouldn’t make a habit of it. He had moved on. He had Laurel now. She was fine on her own.

 

          “Yeah. I moved to the bed.”

 

          “And didn’t sleep.”  It wasn’t a question.          

 

          “Oliver.  I’m fine,” Felicity said with exasperation.

 

          She could tell by the expression on his face that he was choosing his battles.

 

          He settled for one he thought he was most likely to win. “You don’t like people behind you.”

           

          Felicity’s head swiveled to the side and water dripped down her face, falling against her collarbone.

 

          “Is that why you’re up here? You’re testing me?” Felicity asked hotly..

 

          “No, God no.” Oliver clenched his hand in frustration. “I was just making an observation. It’s something I obviously  need to be aware of, and change.” He sounded sad and contrite.

 

          Felicity sobered. “I don’t like people where I can’t see them.” She offered as an olive branch.

 

          When he stayed silent she turned back to the sink, keeping him in her peripheral vision.

 

          “Last night…you seemed tense. I realized that the back of the couch faced the room, and just a second ago-”

 

          “I don’t like talking about it.”

 

          “Okay,” Oliver said. After a long, uncomfortable silence he added, “I didn’t like talking about the time you were gone. Eventually, I learned that in the long run it’s better to open up.  I’m not going to let you run away.”

 

          Felicity gritted her teeth.  She finished getting ready in silence and tried to ready herself. It was five minutes before Oliver pushed again.

 

          “Can’t you just tell me one thing, just one thing about you now. About then.  I need to understand.”  Then after a moment, almost desperately, he said, “Please.”

 

          He had always been desperate to understand change. He had always been more empathetic than he let people see.

 

          Felicity considered her words for a minute, “I need to understand what happened while I was gone. You went as far away as I did, Oliver.”

 

          Oliver looked like she had slapped him in the face.

 

          “Okay, okay.” He rushed out, “Truce.”

 

          Felicity nodded sharply.

 

          “So you lost your glasses….” Oliver prompted quickly. He was afraid she would change her mind. “How did that happen?”

 

            He was so genuine, so desperate to understand, to help that it almost did her in.  She fisted her hands and took a long deep breath.

 

          “I was looking over some documents,” Felicity shook her head at the fib. There was no use being careful about how things went down. If they were ever going to be able to move on with their lives, together or apart, they’d have to deal with the truth and the guilt, “I was staring at my phone wondering if it was weak to call you and talk things out. I was so angry. I didn’t want to give in but I hated leaving in the middle of a fight,” Oliver sucked in a harsh breath, “I was in the bedroom, drinking a glass of wine. The storm was really bad and the boat capsized suddenly.  I was thrown against the wall before I went under. They broke against my face. They washed away.”  Her finger traced the scar in her cheek.

 

            Oliver leaned forward, bracing his forearms against his knees.  Felicity felt him studying her.

 

          “How did you see?”

 

          Felicity sunk into a chair across from him. “For the first few days, I couldn’t see anything.  And then I got used to it. It wasn’t great but I could make out things.  Eventually the headaches went away, too.” She paused, gesturing with her hands. “The doctor said it would be a few days of adjustment going back to wearing them, but I haven’t had any headaches.”

 

          Oliver nodded stoically.

 

          “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it,” Felicity huffed, “People see me as broken. I may be broken but I’m a survivor.”

 

            “Whoa,” Oliver jumped up, his hands spread wide in a symbol of his innocence.  “I don’t see you as broken. You’re stronger than I am.” After a moment of silence he added, “Thea picked out like six pairs.” His attempt at lightheartedness died in the heaviness of the room, “Do you like those?”  

 

           Felicity attempted a smile. “I do,” she said genuinely. Felicity squeezed the top of his arm and added, “I’ll meet you downstairs but I expect my quo later Queen.”

 

           She thought he would leave without saying anything, but he took her shoulders in his hands and gave her a reverent “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

          Felicity thought she had remembered what the craze of paparazzi was like, that she would be prepared to confront the press.

 

          She was wrong.  

 

          It was a sea of people closing in on her, tripping her.  Too many lights, flashing, burning her eyes.  She was vaguely aware of Oliver in front of her and Diggle at her side trying to block the madness.  She fell on the way up the steps and grasped desperately for Oliver’s jacket. He nearly carried her the rest of the way.  When Oliver paused to set her back on her feet right inside the door, Felicity could see the panic in his eyes.

 

          The proceedings happened in a blur. Thea sat on the front row beside Moira and Walter and Oliver. They all gave her firm, supportive smiles.  It was difficult to talk about Robert’s death in front of all that support.  She rushed through her statement as fast as she could, only laying the most stark facts. There was no way that she would be able to tell them the whole truth.

 

 _I’m saving you,_ Felicity thought to those in attendance. _You’d rather know that he never made it off the boat.  That he never begged me to save the city, to save you all, to change you, to make you see.  You’re better off not knowing that he shot himself in front of me.  That I felt his blood pooling on my legs. That the smell of death is still stuck in my nose._

 

“-we move to null the death in absentia filed after Felicity Smoak’s disappearance at sea aboard the Queen’s Gambit five years ago. Unfortunately we are not filing for the declaration of death filed for Robert Queen be rescinded.  The Queen family is only entitled to one miracle, I’m afraid.” Her attorney said easily.

 

            Felicity forced herself to focus on the present.  She was trembling as she walked out of the courtroom. Memories of the last moments of Robert’s life came in flashes. They were all she could see. They came at her faster than she could handle them.

_“I’ve done terrible, terrible things Felicity.  The company, isn’t founded on the honor you believe in.  I’ve done some terrible things for terrible people.”  Robert imparted as the life boat rocked.  Felicity couldn’t remember a time she had been more cold. She wished she was on steady ground.  She was tired of all the rocking.  Her hands were literally blue.  She struggled to pay attention.  You have to right my wrongs.  If there is anyone that can it’s you.  You and your honesty, your innocence.  You have to live for them Felicity.  For Oliver, Thea.  They don’t deserve to have to live in the world I’ve created.  No one does.”_

            

          A different memory, one of getting shot through the shoulder rushed her and it was accompanied by physical pain.  Felicity pressed her hand to her shoulder as the memory overwhelmed her, her fingers tracing the wide scar than rippled there. Her legs failed her. Felicity was vaguely aware of Oliver turning and grasping her close. She wanted to help him but her body wracked with pain. He half carried her out of the court house. Felicity closed her eyes against the bright sun.

 

_The island was a sight she was forced to welcome.  It seemed empty. It was mountainous and grey with trees that went on as far as her unaided vision could make out. Felicity curled her toes in the sand. Even the sand was cold. She stumbled towards the tree line.  Her first instinct was that it was deserted. Didn’t all castaways wash up on deserted islands?  Felicity couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.  Suddenly pain crippled her. Felicity faltered and collapsed to the ground. An arrow protruded obscenely  from her shoulder._

 

_A man appeared out of nowhere.  He spoke in Mandarin while he’d carried her back to a cave. Felicity thought she must have struck something in him, because soon he was attempting to speak in English, “You …have someone…here?” He said brokenly.  He tugged on her engagement ring._

 

_“No,” Felicity had struggled to say past the taste of blood and bile in her mouth. “Waiting for me, back home.”_

_“People …take.”  He pointed to her ring again._

_Felicity nodded as much as she could, wincing in pain every time her arm shifted “What about you?  You have family here?  Waiting for you at home?” she asked conversationally._

 

_“Daughter.” He pointed to himself._

         

          Yao Fei was the first but not the last to call attention to her ring. Felicity had taken his advice and wrapped the ring in a scrap of fabric she had ripped off of her shirt and tucked it in a crevice in the cave. She may have hidden it but her tan line had given her away.

 

_“It seems there are other things you are trying to hide from us,” Fyers had said, “Do you have a lover here?  Is that why you won’t give up Yao Fei?”_

 

_Felicity bit her lip and refused to say anything._

 

_She had never liked men like Fyers, the type that put others down to make themselves feel better.  It was both stubbornness and a feeling that she was doing the right thing that kept her quiet.  Her body ached. She had spent the last hour fading in and out. The pain forced her to be alert._

_“At least you don’t lie.”  Fyers smiled manically. He spit in Felicity’s face and ran a wandering hand down her body, “Our men saw you with that stone on your finger.  We know you came here with it.”_

 

_The man in the mask beside her, the man that had begun her torture had taken her hand, set the jagged edge of his knife against her ring finger “Well,” Fyers said. “At least we can prevent you from ever wearing it again.”_

         

          The pain from the memory made her stumble.  She ripped her arm from Thea’s grasp and cried out. Felicity tried to step backwards but was blocked by the mass of people of behind her. Felicity tugged desperately at her shirt to find the ring she wore underneath it. Felicity ran her finger over the band. She felt the familiar scratches and rough spots made from too much sand and salt water.  

 

          Felicity felt the same cold in her bones now as she had then. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes were wide. Her forehead was covered in a cool sweat. She struggled to breathe. The flashback hit hard. Her legs were shaking and the room spun in front of her. Felicity nearly fell again. The plain walls of the court house morphed into the endless mountains of the island.  She heard Oliver’s voice as an echo that was barely there.  And then his hand was on hers, his fingers tipping her chin up towards his. His eyes met hers. They were blown wide with fear.

 

          The sight brought Felicity back to the present. She blinked rapidly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”  She hoped she answered the question he had asked.

 

          The look on Oliver’s face told her it hadn’t, “I know you want to go to the offices, but maybe we should wait.” Oliver raised his brow like he was ready for her to argue. He was surprised and relieved when she didn’t. “Let’s get you home.”

 

        Leaving the courthouse couldn’t be that easy.  Felicity was barely down the steps when Laurel ‒ _gorgeous Laurel_ ‒ appeared. She walked beside Emily Nocenti, the young girl sueing Martin Summers. Laurel barely glanced at Oliver.   After the way Laurel had woken him up that morning it felt a little bipolar. Felicity was scared by the image of Laurel’s head in Oliver’s lap. Oliver’s head had been tossed back and his face was screwed up in pleasure. It was a punch to Oliver’s gut. He and Laurel were together. If his appetite was at all similar to how it had been _before_ they had sex _often_ . That didn’t mean Felicity needed proof or wanted to think about it. Or see it. At all. Ever. 

 

          Their trip to the car was interrupted again, this time, by Martin Summers’ himself. His ‘impromptu’ press release took over the courthouse steps.  Felicity knew she should have taken the paparazzi’s distraction to get to the car, but she was frozen in place by the spectacle. It did have the benefit of jerking her back to reality. The flashbacks of her time on the island forgotten.

 

          The Glades had gone to hell because of the greedy people in Starling who were willing to do whatever they wanted to get their way, like Martin Summers.  Felicity had always hated bullies.

        

          If Felicity had any reservations toward taking his name off the list tonight, they were gone now.  He was smug and arrogant, smug. Summers was clearly confident that he would get off because of the loyalty he paid for. It infuriated Felicity.

 

          There were a variety of ways to take Summers’ name off the list.   

 

          She could hack his computer system, destroy his financials, steer the boats coming in off course by accessing their steering schematics remotely.  But the drugs would still find a way into the Glades and Summers would still help the Triad. Innocent people would still be hurt.

 

          Felicity could seduce him. If his last three wives were any indication of his preferred type, he’d take her up on the offer. But in order to convince him to confess it’d be a long term operation and that wasn’t something she wanted to do. She wanted to take his name off the list tonight.  

 

          She could make a file on him, give it to the police, but the police force was so corrupt she doubted it would do any good.  After all Lance couldn’t keep the city honest by himself.

 

          It’d have to be done by force then.

 

          Perfect. If she had learned anything during her on the island, it was that she should use her strengths to her best advantage.

 

          Getting away from everyone so she could take his name off the list, was the bigger problem.  She had barely set up an underground headquarters in the basement of an abandoned building that Queen Consolidated had once used as a home base for joint software projects with other companies.

 

          She had no real cover for why she was sneaking off at all, let alone to the Glades. She hoped to turn the first floor of the building into offices for the new software she and Thea were working on. It would give her an excuse to leave and frequent the location of her base of operations but that was a long way off.  Felicity knew Oliver was bound to get protective if John Diggle revealed how often she snuck off in the evening.  She’d already ditched the bodyguard twice.

 

          When Summers moved to leave - ramming into her and sending her spinning in the process‒ she used the swarming paparazzi as a distraction and jumped in the car, begging the driver to speed ahead. Moira and Walter had already left but she looked back as Oliver, Tommy, and Thea disappeared in the distance. Thea had an amused grin on her face and Oliver looked dumbstruck. Diggle glared at the retreating car.

        

          Felicity had the driver, one of the Queen family’s regulars, stop off at a Starbucks claiming she needed a cup of tea after her long morning.  He nodded at her sadly, understanding written all over his face.  He complied with the request without question. Felicity ignored the guilt that gnawed at her for abusing someone's kindness. She walked straight to the bathroom in the back of the coffee shop, climbed through the narrow window, and walked up the back alley to begin the journey to her base.

 

          The first floor of her chosen factory had been so badly damaged by looters and vandals that the bank had given up on it.  Damaged walls created rough offices, one of which hid her new entrance to the basement.  Felicity climbed over a badly damaged wooden desk, to pull open a wedged closet door.  She’d blown out the floor and added a ladder so she could descend to the basement.

           

          She climbed over debris she still needed to clear out and reached the old metal table that showcased her collection of arrow tips.  Quickly choosing the best arrowheads for her task, she placed them in her quiver. She strapped that on top of a leather jacket with matching pants. She grabbed her bow and ran her hand slowly over the recurve. The weapon grounded her.  Every time Felicity held it she thought of Shado, her only friend on the island, the grief-stricken young woman who taught her how to shoot so that she could save both their lives.

           

          Finding Martin Summers was easy; she had slipped a tracker in his back pocket when he rammed into her at the courthouse. Felicity had made several of them out of various cell phone parts and some watch batteries. Felicity crept along the side of the building, climbed up the industrial fire escape quickly and maneuvered her way to the skylight without being noticed by the surrounding guards.

 

          Though Felicity had learned how to inflict pain, cause violence, and protect herself, she did not like it. Her time away tried its best to beat a love for violence into her. She had accepted Robert’s mission but she was going to do it her way. The truth was she was doing this more for Oliver and Thea than she was doing it to honor Robert.  Making the city safer for her fami-- _were they family or friends now?_ ,--  that was her purpose.

 

           Felicity set a timed detonator on the skylight. As she watched a man, she was sure she saw at the courthouse, perhaps the DA, left the office. When the detonator blew it sent glass through the offices below.  Felicity took a slow breath in, notched her arrow, steadily pulled back her bowstring, and fired. The arrowhead wedged a grappling line into the adjacent building allowing her to sink into the office below.

 

          When Felicity stood in front of Summers and aimed her bow at him, he looked terrified. His eyes were wide with his fair. His hands trembled. Felicity knew what he saw a shadowed face under a dark hood, a muscular body emphasized by quilted leather and kevlar, and a sharp and deadly weapon. Summer’s sucked in a breath as Felicity aimed the arrow at the spot between his eyes. He may work with the Triad, he may take their money but he certainly hadn’t been trained for pain.

 

            The feeling that surged through her were hard to put into words.  Not anticipation, nor power; a combination of both mixed with the certainty of doing the right thing.

 

            “Martin Summers,” she said, her voice coming out in a disguised growl. “You have failed this city.” She recited Roberts words, a mantra that fueled her mission.

 

           When he glared at her she loosed an arrow to scrape against his cheek and quickly followed it with a second which sliced the top of his shoulder. A third arrow landed between his legs. He was a trembling mess.

 

           “W-what do you want me to do.” He let out a low groan. “Please.”

 

           Felicity spoke over his begging, “You’re going to confess to the murder of Victor Nocenti.  You won’t get a second warning.”

 

           She left with the shadows.

 

* * *

 

 

            She arrived… _home?_ Felicity wasn’t sure what to call it at present. A a seemingly calm Oliver Queen stood in the foyer. He was putting on. She could see the fury in his eyes.

 

           “How was your tea?”  Oliver said shortly.

 

           Felicity recognized the way he leaned against the banister for the trap it was, he had been waiting to stop her as soon as she came back.  She wondered how long he would’ve waited before he went to search for her.

 

           “Oliver,” Felicity started resolutely. She was ready with a lie to deter him from the truth of where she really went

 

          Oliver held up a hand to stop her.

         

           “Let’s go for a walk.”

 

           She could tell his smile was forced. It was tight around the edges.

 

           It was then that she noticed what he was wearing, sweatpants and a green Henley ‒that made the new muscle on his chest stand out‒ and running shoes. He had planned this.

 

           She must have looked apprehensive, because he added, “Let’s catch up.” His eyebrows rose in a silent plea,  his face softening, his eyes urging her to join him.

 

           She nodded and he stepped out of the way so that she could walk up the stairs to change.

 

         Before she left, she twisted her hair up in a bun on top of her head and looked in the mirror for a long moment.  She was still getting used to what she now looked like:  puckered pink flesh against her jaw and deep divot in her cheek.  It was difficult, reconciling how she remembered herself to the scared person she was now.

 

           The route he took her on was one she remembered.  When they first started dating, he’d taken her on long, secret midnight walk down this path.  The best way to avoid the paparazzi he had promised.  It still was by the looks of it.  It involved walking down his home’s service access road, off the grounds, and up a hill.  It was out of the way but it worked and it was their. It had been anyway.

 

           He seemed to hear her thoughts, “I used to walk this route when I needed to talk to you. If I closed my eyes.  I could almost hear your voice. I wanted it to just belong to you and me,” he imparted to Felicity. “So I stopped walking it when Laurel and I -.”  He cut off. Felicity could see his attempt to avoid the situation. It angered her a bit. If he wanted to know what happened to her, she deserved to know what happened to him.

 

          “Hopefully I remember the way.” Oliver said and elbowed her ribs playfully.

 

           The walk took longer than she remembered with her limp.  She hardly noticed the wound when she was barreling through sky lights or in a fight. She had adapted to prevent all weaknesses but on a walk beside someone who walked normally, it was very noticeable to her. It was a painful reminder of how different things were between them. Her slow pace didn’t seem to bother Oliver.  He didn’t try to assist her, which she liked.  He was clearly trying to adapt to who she had become. He was trying to learn who she was again. Sometimes she felt he was treating her like a stranger. Felicity doubted Oliver thought of it that way.

 

           They had made it about a mile. The night air was just beginning to cool and it whispered against her. The silence had been more comfortable in the past but it was more awkward now.  It was another ten minutes or so before Oliver said anything.

           

          “I know you were alone for five years.  I get that this is overwhelming,” he scrubbed a hand through his hair, “I worry about you and I ..,” Oliver cast Felicity a glance, “I can’t lose you again. And you just go running off in the Glades, _the Glades,_ for coffee without Diggle-”

           

          Felicity could hear the fear in his voice and see it in the way his eyes stormed. She felt it deep in her gut. He was so vulnerable in that moment that the coldness she wanted to show him dissipated.

 

           “Okay,” she placated, pressing her hand against his shoulder. “Okay.  From now on Digg is my guy.  I mean he’s not my guy we’re not like ‘going steady’ or ‘bumping uglies’ or anything -”

 

           Oliver laughed, full and easy.  Felicity smiled, even if his laughter was at her expense, she enjoyed it.  She had missed that laugh.

 

           At the end of another mile they were discussing work, “What are you doing at Queen Consolidated?”

         

           He chuckled, dryly and scratched a hand at the back of his neck like he did when he was embarrassed, “I’m working under Walter.  Doing a lot of business meetings, stockholder briefings and schmoozing of the rich and famous.”

         

           He said it like he was bored.  

 

          “What do you want to do?”

                  

          Oliver blinked at her like he hadn’t been asked the question in a very long time.

 

          “Honestly?” he asked rhetorically but she nodded in support anyway, “Walter’s trying to diversify.  He’s opening an Applied Sciences division.  I’d like to run that,” Oliver ducked his head under his arm as he scratched at the back of his neck, “I’d like to start guiding it towards real world involvement. I mean what’s the point if it just keeps cycling through the rich - ” he trailed off. Oliver wouldn’t meet her eyes as if he was embarrassed, “Walter and Mom, they’d never go for it.  Robert Queen’s son is heir to the company, not the director of some pseudo-rogue division. “

 

          “Oliver - ”

 

          He shook his head, “They’re dedicating it in Dad’s memory. That’s enough.

 

          Felicity could tell it wasn’t.  “Why haven’t you talked to Walter about it?”

 

          Oliver sighed, “He won’t take me seriously.”

 

          “Oliver,” Felicity scolded. “You have a tendency not to take _yourself_ seriously.”  He rolled his eyes at her but shrugged in agreement, “Look, if you want to the job, apply for the job. Apply.”

           

          “What?”

 

          “Apply.  Make a cover letter, a resume.  Market yourself.  Apply like anyone else would.  Show them that you’re serious about it.”

 

          He smiled at her tentatively, “You really think I should go for it?”

 

          “I think,” Felicity considered, “that it will make you much happier than you are right now.  I think _they_ could use _you.”_

 

          He was quiet for a moment, “Thank you, Felicity.”

 

          Years ago he would’ve wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He would’ve basked in the support and offered it in return. Instead, they just walked quietly side by side. Felicity shook off the feeling of mourning and offered him a nod and a smile.

 

           By the time they got back to the house, Oliver was telling some story about Thea’s devilish plan to fill the gossip rags websites with gossip about their own people. Felicity couldn’t help but chuckle. Oliver was trying too hard but he was trying.

 

           “I swear.  She outed the woman’s affair.  And destroyed the credibility of three other publications before anyone caught on.” His grin was boyish,  “She wasn’t going to let anyone say anything about you when you weren’t here to defend yourself.”

 

          “I’ll have to than-” Felicity started but cut off when she saw Laurel. She had conquered the sitting room with suitcases. The blouse she wore was low cut and her smile was fake.

        

          “Hello, Laurel.” Oliver said, his voice tight.

 

          He offered Felicity an apologetic half smile before meeting Laurel in the foyer. Felicity felt, not for the first time, forgotten on the sidelines as they conversed in sharp, hushed voices.

 

          Felicity made it halfway up the stairs before she decided to eavesdrop. Though with their conversation as loud as it was, Felicity wasn’t sure it was really _eavesdropping._

 

          “I’m going home.” Laurel said plainly. Her voice was tight but heated. The wheels of her suitcase squeaked as Laurel pulled it forward. A glance down the steps told Felicity Laurel was holding it in front of her. “Our actual home.”

 

          Oliver’s dejected sigh was easy to hear.

 

          “I hate it here,” Laurel said as if she was trying to rationalize her leaving, “Even before - I’ve never liked it here.”

         

          “Which is why I wanted to talk. Today. At lunch.” Oliver bit back. He had raised his voice. His words were hard and biting, “Where were you?”

 

          “I was in back to back meetings work got busy.”

 

          “And you couldn’t send a text?”

 

          Felicity could make out Oliver’s dropped shoulders and Laurel’s flushed cheeks.

 

          “If you want to talk, I’ll see you at home.” Felicity watched as Laurel sidestepped Oliver with a huff. She dragged her suitcase behind her.

 

          Oliver looked like he had been gutted.

          

* * *

 

          This time Felicity took Diggle.

 

          She didn’t tell Oliver where she was going.

 

           She may have never stopped loving him but he had stopped loving her.

 

          So, to Laurel’s it was.

 

          Felicity ran her hands against her blue jeans. She wasn’t nervous, but that was what made her tense. This was _gorgeous_ Laurel Lance, The Laurel, she was getting ready to deal with. Oliver’s high school sweetheart, a woman even the judgmental paparazzi believed was made for Oliver more than she herself had been.  The one that hadn’t taken their engagement well and then had gotten her happily ever after anyway.

 

          Felicity couldn’t find it in herself to feel sorry for Laurel but she couldn’t not feel responsible for the situation they all found themselves in. She may want to equally punch Oliver in the face and wrap herself in his arms, but she didn’t want him hurting. Her heart still ached when she knew he was in pain.

 

          The police car parked beside the curb was both obvious and foreboding.

         

           Laurel’s door was easy to pick out, painted a dark blue and personalized with curvy, vintage-styled silver numbers that seemed exactly Laurel’s style.  

 

            Felicity knocked three times quickly and waited a minute before Laurel opened the door.  Laurel looked surprised and it was obvious that Felicity had caught her at a bad time.  Her eyes looked red and puffy like she had been crying. She held a box of Chinese take out in one hand.

 

          “Felicity?”  She asked in surprise.

 

          It was the “’City?”  That came from behind Laurel that had Felicity’s brows rising in surprise.

 

          “Oh I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.  I’ll leave you to your -” Felicity flailed her hands in front of her as she looked for the right word, “date.”

 

          Laurel shook her head, instead encouraging her inside.

 

          This was not the space Felicity had expected.  The layout of the place was all Oliver.  Open, high glass windows, all wood floor, stainless-steel metals.  It looked straight out of a postmodern catalogue. Oliver had described what he wanted their future home to look like a few times and it always looked like this. Felicity was fairly certain they had actually _looked_ at this loft. They had put an offer on this loft. Oliver had liked that it was on the top floor and easier to secure, it was close to QC which would’ve made an easy commute for both of them, and Felicity had loved the park across the street. She could see their future kids playing their or their dog. She had always wanted a dog.

 

          Felicity forcefully shook her head. What was this? She was hurt. It felt like a knife through her heart. Cold spread through her body. He had pursued _their_ future with someone else, like the players were interchangeable. On the island, Felicity had imagined him in a loft like this but he had always been alone. There had always been a space for her. He had decorated with blankets that she loved and too many pillows because she liked it. This was decorated to Laurels taste.

 

          The apartment she had looked at with her one time future husband was decorated and occupied by his high school sweetheart.

 

          Felicity felt sick.

 

           “Is everything okay, Felicity?”  Tommy asked, eyes alarmed at her sudden pallor.

 

          “Is everything okay with Oliver?” Laurel asked at the same time.

 

           Felicity shook her head to steady herself, “I was going to ask if you were okay Laurel. There’s a police car parked outside.”

 

           Laure forced a smile. “Yeah.  My Dad’s overprotective.”

           

          “Oh.” Felicity offered lamely.

 

          Tommy’s eyes watched the two of them. He looked uncomfortable. Felicity figured he was trying to come up with a decent excuse to leave.

 

          “Did you need something?” Laurel asked.

 

           “Yeah…I…God, this is awkward,” Felicity blurted.  She rocked up on her toes, “You left the mansion. I wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I’d stay somewhere else if I had the means.”

           

          All the energetic façade of a moment before drained away, leaving Laurel looking tired.

           

          “Did Oliver send you?”

 

          Felicity didn’t think there was a correct answer, “No. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

 

          Laurel crossed her arms in frustration. She glanced at Tommy,  “This is a tricky situation for everyone involved.  I think we just all need a little time away from one another.  It’s no one’s fault. No one could’ve planned any of this.”  It sounded over rehearsed.

 

          Felicity tried, she really tried to let it go, but she just couldn’t. The insult was obvious.  Who was Laurel to make her feel like the outsider in a life that had once been hers?

 

          “Planned what exactly?”  She asked instead of the more diplomatic response she had arrived at the loft with. “My getting stranded on an island or my getting rescued?”

 

          Laurel looked affronted, a million expressions flashed across her face.  

 

          Tommy let out an awkward sigh, Felicity turned to glare at him. In the same instant she caught sight of a woman swinging towards the window, from the neighboring building.

 

           “Get down!”  Felicity screamed at Tommy.

 

          She pulled Laurel behind her and pressed them against the kitchen island.

 

          They seemed to gravitate toward items that would make the most mess.  A metal chandelier tumbled from the ceiling, a decorative mirror shattered, another window was shot out, and a vase crashed as it fell to the floor. Glass was everywhere.

 

           Felicity rushed the hallway, ignoring Laurel’s gasps as glass pictured her socked feet. She pushed Laurel into the first room she could find. She closed the door and turned back to see Diggle racing inside the apartment.  

 

          He was armed. He’d taken care of the first mercenary and just landed a shot on the second.  Chien a Wei, a mercenary Felicity had encountered during her time away launched herself in front of diggle. A bullet grazed the crisp white wig she wore but she was unphased. She was a killer.

 

          Felicity watched as they exchanged blows. Diggle was a far better fighter than she would’ve given him credit for.  The scuffle went on for nearly two minutes, a lifetime when fighting a Triad mercenary. Chien a Wei managed to grab a discarded gun and aimed it at Diggle’s temple. grabbing a discarded gun and training it at his temple.

           

          Tommy laid in the floor near the couch. He was unconscious but his chest rose and fell. He wouldn’t be able to help. Felicity searched her surroundings. She was desperate to find a way to handle the situation. Had she had more time she would’ve considered the importance of her secret. As it was she acted on instinct.

 

          Save the people she cared about.

 

          Felicity grabbed at a knife that sat near Tommy’s dinner. Throwing knives had been one of Felicity’s favorite things on the island. It had taken her over a year to become at all successful with the bow. Knives she had a surprising knack for. There was a formula to the weight and force of a throw. Felicity had always liked math. She measured the weight of the kitchen knife in one hand and picked up a pair of forgotten chopsticks in the other.

 

          Felicity threw the knife first. It easily dislodged the gun from Chien a Wei’s hand. Then she threw the chopsticks in quick succession. One hit Chien a Wei in the eye and the other stabbed her throat. Chien a Wei retreated in an instant and tossed herself out the wind.

 

            “Call 911,” Felicity said to Diggle.  

 

           He had already taking out his cell phone.

           

          Felicity double-checked Tommy’s pulse and moved to Laurel when she was satisfied that he was okay. She  yanked open the door she had thrust Laurel behind. Laurel was shaking from her spot behind a shelf of legal volumes. There were fat tears on her cheeks. She was sobbing into a cell phone, unable to make actual words. From the shouting of the voice on the other end, Felicity gathered that it was Oliver.

 

          Felicity approached her slowly. She splayed her hands wide so that she looked un-threatening.

 

          “They’re gone now, Laurel,” she said. Felicity stated the clearest, most important statement first and used Laurel’s name in hopes of reaching her through the panic, “Mr. Diggle took care of it. Your dad will be here soon.”

           

            Laurel blinked owlishly.  Felicity could hear Oliver calling out on the other end.

 

          “It’s okay,” Felicity emphasized as she crouched in front of Laurel.

 

            “It’s okay,” Laurel repeated into the phone, “Felicity took care of it.”

           

          Felicity could hear Oliver query her name from the other end of the line, his voice garbled.

 

           The paramedics stormed the room almost immediately. They were careful not to disrupt the crime scene as they loaded Tommy onto a stretched and checked Laurel and Diggle out.  Felicity politely and firmly refused.

 

           Detective Lance arrived less than ten minutes later. He rushed in and took Laurel into his arms. He tucked her head under his chin. “It’s okay Laurel. You’re okay now.” His eyes caught Felicity’s over Laurel’s head, “You alright sweetheart?”  He asked.

           

           Felicity nodded firmly.  She had glass in her hair that fell out when she nodded.

 

          The front door flew open again. Oliver stormed through, despite the shouts of the policemen that were standing at the door.  Felicity watched as he strode straight to Laurel, his pace long and even.  She turned away from her father’s arms and reached for him. Oliver scooped her up against his chest, his hands protecting the back of her head as if he was afraid she would disappear again.

 

          Felicity received a mouthed, “You okay?” She could see his eyes run critically over her body like he was checking her for injuries.  His worry was written in the furrow between his brows.

 

          Felicity shook off the grief she felt at _watching_ him choose Laurel. She intended to give him a firm nod but turned away instead.

 

           Felicity wanted to be in his arms. She was fine, capable of taking care of herself. She wasn’t just some damsel that needed comforting.  But she did _want_ it.  

 

          She was being selfish.  Laurel was the one they’d been here to kill, not here.  Plus, Laurel and Oliver had been together for years. They were mostly together now.  She had called him in tears. It wasn’t wrong for him to be worried about her.  

 

          Felicity still felt neglected. Wasn’t he concerned about her wellbeing at all? For all he knew she had been defenseless during the attack.

 

          So what if she was being selfish. Hadn’t Laurel been selfish? She had spent years trying to steal Oliver back. She had taken the first real chance she got when the Gambit went down.

 

           Felicity could feel Lance looking at her worriedly, tentatively, like he was afraid she would break.  She shook her head. She rolled her shoulders back. Felicity chose to focus on the situation at hand.

 

          She walked to the kitchen and hunted around in the freezer until she found a bag of frozen peas. She found Diggle and handed them to him. He placed them against his cheek.

 

           He smiled at Felicity. “She got lucky.”

           

          Felicity chuckled, “Thank you.  We wouldn’t have all made it out had you not been here.”

         

          A strange expression crossed Diggles’ face, one Felicity couldn’t quite make out. There was intelligence hiding in his eyes. He wasn’t a brute but a smart, educated man.  

 

Diggle shrugged and then said, “I think it’s you I should be thanking.  The chopsticks.  The knife.”

 

          Felicity forced herself to giggle girlishly. Though she had fought the stereotypes that surrounded women her whole life, her time away had taught her to use them to her advantage. A smile and a giggle was all it took to convince someone she was innocent.

 

          “I just got lucky.”

           

          Diggle shook his head and leveled her with a glare. “Don’t take me for a fool,” he warned lowly, “You kept your head in there.  Got Tommy down, Laurel to safety, and then you saved my ass.”

 

           Felicity frowned, leaned against the window sill he sat on. “I just got lucky,” she repeated.

          

           She wasn’t sure Dig believed her.

 

          Felicity watched the scene in front of them, as the police took Laurel’s statement. Crime scene techs methodically walked through the scene collecting evidence and dropping it into plastic bags.

 

          Eventually, Oliver came to stand in front of her. His arms were extended like he was going to grab her shoulders. He chose not to at the last minute.

 

          “You’re okay?” He said, “You’re okay,” He was reassuring himself.

 

          He did reach out then. He cupped her jaw and tugged her around as he check her for injuries. Felicity grabbed his hands, gave them a squeeze and stepped back. She was forcefully putting space between them.

 

           “I’m fine.”

           

          “I can’t lose you again.”

           

          It was too much. Felicity shook her head and took another stepped back.

 

          “I’m going to go. Take care of Laurel.”

 

          Oliver reached for her. Felicity thrust out a hand and shook her head. Diggle followed her. It wasn’t until they were in the car that Diggle spoke.

 

          “I served three tours in Afghanistan.  You want to know what I learned?”

           

          Felicity shrugged. “That war is tough.”

           

          “The opposite,” Diggle said. He made eye contact with her through the rearview mirror.  “War is easy.  Home is a battlefield.  Everyone wants you to be like you were before, even though they aren’t. They want you to understand their troubles while they don’t understand yours. They want you to talk about it, “He emphasized. Diggle started the car before he continued, “They want you to me someone that you aren’t sure you are anymore. You want to know what I think Ms. Smoak?”

 

          Felicity nodded silently.

 

          “I think that that Island changed you but I don’t think you’re as messed up after five years of being abandoned, as you have any right to be. You could’ve demanded to be heard back there,” He continued, “You could’ve ran into his arms right when he opened that door. Hell, you could have left that girl for dead. A weaker woman would have. But you didn’t. And now you’re sitting here - together and strong. You’re letting him tend to her instead of demanding he takes care of you. That makes you a fighter in my book.” He let his words settled for a moment before he imparted, “You’re going to get through this just fine.”

 

           Felicity felt raw, exposed.  She didn’t like it. “You’re one observant man, Mr. Diggle,” she said solidly.

 

           “Let’s get you out of here,” he said as he joined traffic.

          

* * *

 

          When they arrived at the mansion, Felicity asked Diggle for some space, for a walk.  He seemed to appreciate the request and the honesty. Diggle let her leave but promised he would find her if she was gone for more than two hours.

 

           Felicity took a different route to her hideout this time.  She jogged the twenty minutes into the city and then hailed a cab to take her to the Glades. Felicity got off at a restaurant called Big Belly Burger.  She didn’t think it existed before the island.

 

           She used the alleyway behind the restaurant and a barely-there side street to get to the abandoned offices.

 

           Felicity was quick to change, gather her arrows and head back to the docks.  Evasion was something she had had to learn on the island. It had been integral to her survival.  Shado had taught her a lot. She had taught her how to hide in plain sight and how to move among the shadows.

 

Hiding was a game. Getting to the docks without being seen was a puzzle to solve.  Felicity went down alleys, climbed up fire escapes, hopped onto roof tops, jumped from one to the next.  She slid between buildings, crossed through the long forgotten underground tracks and came up at the docks.

           

          The guards were far more alert tonight Felicity noticed.  There was no way she could get close enough to Summers’ without one noticing.  

 

          She might as well make them notice her.  Felicity nocked three arrows and took as many guards out with a single shot. They howled in pain as a tranquilizer arrow landed in each of their shoulders. She progressed to the docks. Felicity took the next guard out with a backhand to the nose and an arrow in his leg.  She dodged a punch from the man behind her, forcefully clocked him in the jaw and took off running.  

 

          She jumped down to the level below her. She liked free falling in the physical sense.  She loved the feeling of the wind against her and the hard grounding drop at the end of a jump that almost felt like flying.

           

          Felicity held on to that weightlessness as she chased after Summer. The moment he saw a guard go down he started running. She notched an arrow and fired it at Summers’ shoulder.  It impaled him to a large column. His briefcase went skittering across the concrete. Felicity loosed another arrow, trapping his right shoulder. She loosed a third that landed right on target between his legs.

 

          It only took moments for his confession to come slipping out from his panic.   _Easy,_ Felicity thought to herself, knowing that the recorder she had created and clipped into her quiver was picking up every detail.  All these villains had the same flaw.

 

          Felicity could see the Triad emerge around the border of the building. Felicity ran out of the warehouse. She jumped to the level below. Felicity saw police cars in the distance. _That_ she had expected. Police never took well to someone changing their idea of what justice should be.  She was just enough ahead of them in the game that it wouldn’t be a problem.

           

          Felicity took a leap and ran along the ocean’s edge. When Felicity finally reached a decent vantage points she set her sights on the row of parked police cars. It was easy to pick out Lance’s car because the detective leaned against its hood.

 

          Lance was the most likely to catch her. He never liked an unsolved mysteries. She had never interpreted his view of justice as fluid but it had been a hedonistic calculus. Felicity knew Lance was the most likely to catch her. He was also the most likely to help her.

 

           In a police force full of corruption she knew he wasn’t one of those that would hide or destroy the information. As easy as it would’ve been to kill Summers’ justice would ensure those he harmed received what they had lost. She wasn’t able to trust the force with the audio file. She had three copies of the recorded confession. One of them was for Lance. He’d make sure it’d get where it needed to go.

           

          Felicity clipped the device to an arrow shaft and loosed it. The arrow lodged itself into the cruisers tire.

 

          Felicity continued across the docks. She escaped up a side street and headed over a fire escape. She ended up on the roof of CNRI. Laurel seemed liked the type of woman to go back to work after a trauma. She was the woman that hunted down the people that hunted her. Sure enough, Felicity saw Laurel through the window. Laurel was eating take out over a slew of files. What Felicity hadn’t considered was that Oliver would be there. He sat across from Laurel. They were talking quietly.

 

          It made sense she supposed. Five years ago he would’ve been with her after an accident. He wouldn’t have let her out of his sight. Laurel was the woman he cared about now.  

           

          Felicity took a steadying breath and aimed an arrow at the window. Felicity had exchanged the arrow’s tip with a high powered suction cup. The arrow adhered to the window. Felicity watched as Laurel noticed the bright green light flashing on the device and went to retrieve it.

 

* * *

         

          Felicity told herself she wasn’t going to wait to see which of Oliver’s homes he came back to, which of his loves he wanted. Yet she found her eyes locked on the mansion's front door. She had the TV was on, the sound low. Felicity talked to Diggle, Oliver had called him asking after her, wondering why she left and if she was safe.  Diggle told him yes.

 

          Felicity had come downstairs to find the furniture rearranged and from the confused looks of the house-staff as they scurried around the house, Oliver had done it.

 

           The TV had been moved almost under the entry way, creating a bottleneck of traffic for those that were coming in, but it allowed the couch and the rooms four, fat chairs, to have their backs to the walls.  

 

          Felicity had also found pairs of glasses, identical to the ones she had taken to wearing, all over the house.  A pair laid in their own tray beside the couch in the living room, one on the buffet in the dining room,  another pair on the table in the foyer.  The note attached to the first pair she found said ‘So it’s never dark.’

            

          “Oliver.” Felicity sighed to herself, “I don’t want all of this.  I just want -”

 

          “My son has a tendency for over compensating for what he can’t give emotionally.”  Moira said from the doorway.

          

          Felicity sucked in a breath, her cheeks flushing.

           

          “Mrs. Qu-Steele, I didn’t see you there.”

           

          Moira laughed lightly. “Moira, Felicity. It’s still Moira.  It’s a good thing I caught you.”

           

          Felicity wasn’t sure if she meant literally or metaphorically.  Moira made herself comfortable in a chair across from where Felicity sat on the couch.  Instead of crossing her legs as Felicity was used to seeing, Moira leaned forward. Her arm rested on the arm of the chair. Her voice was soft, gentle, like Felicity imagined her mother’s would’ve sounded like, had she not passed when Felicity was young. Moira seemed to weigh her words and choose them carefully.

 

           “I know this has to be difficult for you.” She paused with a heavy look before trying again. “I am so sorry seems inadequate.”

           

          Felicity appreciated the sentiment.

           

          “I know it must seem like Oliver forgot you”  Moira pulled a thick book from inside her jacket.  “I don’t even think Oliver knows this still exists. He tried to burn it,” Moira pressed it into her hand, “but I think you need to read it.”

 

           Felicity took it tentatively.  The leather cover was worn and soft.

          

 _The therapist told me to keep this,”_ the first page read, _“She wants me to write about your disappearance.  I’m writing to you instead.  I think they call it ‘denial’._

 

_You said you would never leave and I’m holding you to that._

 

           Felicity could almost hear his voice from earlier _, “I know.  I don’t like talking much about the time…you were gone. It took me years to get over that.  And I learned…that in the long run it’s better to open up.  I’m not going to let you run away.”_

 

 _Felicity,_ the next entry started,   _I know nothing - I don’t know where you are. I don’t know if you’re hurt or hungry or alive.  I don’t know if you’re cold. - the not knowing is a burden I can’t carry. It’s killing me._

 

_Do you remember that time we went to that terrible outdoor opera and there was that hail storm?  We’d just been dating like six days.  I was already committed. For the first time it didn’t make me nervous.  The weather was awful. It was snowing.  You were so stubborn. You made us stay there through the whole thing.  You were so cold your lips were blue. Near the end, you gave in. You took my suit jacket and let me hold you close. You had never let me hold you like that before. I wanted to wrap you up and keep you warm and safe - never let the world touch you, never let anything harm you.  I promised you that._

 

_I failed._

 

_I knew that you were insecure about Laurel.  That was my fault. I sought out the friendship she and I  had had in highschool, when I was scared, angry, or annoyed. I knew deep down she would always take my side. Any time we fought or disagreed, I wanted someone in my corner. I was immature. You’ve always encouraged me to do my best. I love that. It’s still daunting to live up to.  Laurel expected my worst so I always impressed her just by being who you helped me become._

 

_Nothing happened Felicity.  Nothing.  I’ll never forgive myself for that fight.  I’m sorry Felicity._

 

_They tell me you’re gone. I don’t believe it.  I wish I could tell you I love you.  I love you Felicity.  Come home to me._

 

          Felicity turned the page and found another entry.

 

_Felicity, the wedding planner called today.  I didn’t know how to tell her to postpone it.  Apparently once you have a funeral for someone, you can’t keep items reserved for their wedding. I convinced her to. She’s holding everything for us, when you return.  We can get married just like you planned.  Square plates, sushi, and those gold candlesticks that you wanted._

 

_Thea has picked out six dresses for you. I can’t wait for you to pick out your own. I need to see you in a white dress._

          Felicity drifted off with the book clutched to her chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reviews feed my muse (and make me happy and keep me sane)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you liked the story or have helpful suggestions please reviews. Your reviews are my encouragement, reward, and motivation.


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